


Jam Jars, Mosquito Repellent, & Sunblock

by Its_real_for_us



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Anticipation, Cabin Fic, Closeted Character, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, Grief/Mourning, Nature, Pansy/Luna Past, Romance, Sapphic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-23
Updated: 2020-08-23
Packaged: 2021-03-06 23:15:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26057071
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Its_real_for_us/pseuds/Its_real_for_us
Summary: “It’s okay, you know,” I started, “to still miss her. I do.” I couldn’t bring myself to look in her direction, maybe due to my attraction, or maybe because her pain had an odd way of becoming my own.Like all of her emotions, they were so bright, even the sad ones, I couldn’t help but want to know what it was like to feel things so entirely, so vividly again it swooped me off my feet into a world that wasn’t forever grounded in my version of reality.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Pansy Parkinson, Luna Lovegood/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 98





	Jam Jars, Mosquito Repellent, & Sunblock

I could feel the sun slowly soak in every pore of my body, even the hidden shaded enclaves of my armpits and my freckled nose that was supposed to be protected by _her_ abnormally large sunhat. _She’d_ suggested I wear it. 

Though, to be fair, that wasn’t too just of a statement. _She_ was even paler than I was, more likely to be burned to a crisp under the blazing, summer heat. 

We sat by the mellow waters that stretched out in front of our environs, one that happened to make little to no sound unless ventured, in heaps of sticky, probably expired, sunscreen from my late cousin’s cabin. It had sneakily been trapped behind bottles and bottles of mosquito repellent, collecting dust with jam jars and sweet ketchup my aunt had once made before falling ill—a bittersweet symphony.

I looked over to _her_. Intense greenery, mostly dense verdant evergreens, almost perfectly shaded _her_. 

“Do you need me to rub sunscreen on your back?” _Her_ intonation was as sweet as honey. It made an uneasy feeling rattle in the pits of my already-queasy stomach. I wasn’t too sure how to respond without letting my voice betray me.

“No,” I blushed, turning away rapidly to make certain my cheeks didn’t give my attraction away either. I’d already lacked subtlety in the days prior. I needed to be careful. “Thanks.”

We’d been spending a lot of time together since Luna’s sudden demise. _She’d_ dated her for a little over a year, and I’d become Luna’s close friend after graduation many years ago. 

Once we left Hogwarts, our past differences, mostly my sometimes judgemental comments, had all slipped away into things of the past; in an alternate universe of pre-war used-to-bes. 

It hadn’t been a surprise to anyone when Luna started dating a woman. She’d never struck me as being someone who limited her attraction to one gender. It just wasn’t who she was, as a person.

However, on the other hand, when _she_ did, when Pansy openly admitted to not only dating Luna but being entirely gay, I couldn’t quite contain my awe. I hadn’t seen it coming, not remotely.

Pansy had always been blatantly herself, or so I thought, completely disinterested in other people’s opinions of her. I guess I’d been wrong, wouldn’t be the first time I’d jumped to conclusions. 

I should’ve known better to believe in a façade. I’d been that way, showing others the parts of me I wanted them to see and craftily masking the ones I didn’t want to be shown. 

It was only normal Pansy didn’t want people to know her true identity for so long. She was a Pure-Blood witch. She was raised to do no wrong, expected to do things in a certain way. It was too much for any child to bear on their shoulders, but it was what it was.

Every Pure-Blood knew that battle, and every Muggle-Born knew another.

“What are you thinking about?” The question caught me off guard, for a moment. I searched my thoughts and said the first thing that came to mind.

“Jam jars and mosquito repellent,” I laughed. She furrowed her eyebrows, curiosity etched on her every feature. “That and sticky sunblock.”

“And how if Luna was still here, she’d entirely refuse to put on either,” Pansy added. Her smile was genuine, but it didn’t reach her eyes. I hated when it did that, when it faltered right before reaching that _moreno_ hold of hers I’d grown to love so immensely.

“She’d want to feel the sun on her skin, and she’d allow those filthy bloodsuckers to suck her dry if nobody stopped her!” Pansy covered her mouth in hysterics as she swam in an ocean brimmed to the brink in nostalgic loss. I knew some of the memories couldn’t be all that bad, but death had a way of making everything blur with hurt. 

It had been quite some time since Luna’s passing, but grief after the first initial storm, I’d found, was a fickle, funny thing. It came in waves of painful realisation, leeching on tightly for two or three days, to then, greet you with weeks of serenity until the cycle started anew. 

It never ceased, at least not full stop.

“It’s okay, you know,” I started, “to still miss her. I do.” I couldn’t bring myself to look in her direction, maybe due to my attraction, or maybe because her pain had an odd way of becoming my own. 

Like all of her emotions, they were so bright, even the sad ones, I couldn’t help but want to know what it was like to feel things so entirely, so vividly again it swooped me off my feet into a world that wasn’t forever grounded in my version of reality. 

“You do?” Pansy’s voice was rough at the edges, jagged with her own ever-looming grief.

“Yes, I do, every day. She was such an innocent soul. She always saw the good in everything,” I voiced. 

“She did, yeah. I swear she even made me see it sometimes,” Pansy agreed. “You’re the only person that still willingly discusses her so openly with me. I appreciate that.”

“It’s what I would’ve wanted when _he_ died.” It had been much longer than Luna. _He’d_ died during the war. Ron had thrown himself in front of Fred, ultimately saving the twin’s life by ending his own. 

“Hermione-”

"Even though I’m in love now, I miss him the same. He was still my best friend, after all.” I bit my lip, trying to reel the words back into my mouth before their moment of existence. I felt a gush of heat rise to my face, but Pansy didn’t mention it, which made me both happy and sad, concurrently. 

“You can talk to me about him whenever you wish. I might not have known him well, or at all for that matter, but what he did-" Pansy choked on her words before breathing in and out to find stability in her breath, once more. “It’s what Luna did; sacrifice.”

“The ultimate demonstration of love.” The smile on her face was brilliantly radiant. I couldn’t stop myself from smiling, too. It was contagion in its truest forms. “Not some impulse, crazed ‘Loony’ move.”

“And not another reckless Gryffindor lapse of judgement,” she stated. I’d heard a ton of people say those things about Luna and Ron’s deaths, time and time over. “It was courage and bravery... and love beyond measure.”

“Yes,” I gleamed. “Yes, it was.” I let myself sit and pause in thought before taking in my surroundings again.

“This place really is beautiful.”

“Thank you,” I said, finally turning my gaze to hers for the first time in minutes. Pansy was now bathed in sunlight, the shadows that once protected her were long gone, faded into the backdrop of what should’ve been our simple Tuesday afternoon.

“Who did the cabin belong to again?”

“It was my cousin’s,” I whispered, barely audibly. I never liked talking about my Muggle life. It seemed so uneventful and almost wrong when speaking to a Slytherin Pure-Blood. 

I knew she’d changed. Pansy knew what oppression felt like due to her sexuality, and I assumed that, most probably, made her more aware of just how difficult it was to be a Muggle-Born in a Wizarding World still full of internalised racist ideologies.

“You can talk to me about your Muggle life, Granger,” she teased smirkingly before quickly deciding to change to a more empathetic approach. “Hermione, you’re my friend-” she paused. 

Her eyes were full of love and understanding and something I couldn’t quite decipher. She was so beautiful, and it physically pained me to stare at her.

“I know, but-”

“But nothing, I want to know everything about you, dear.” My heart clenched at the pet name. I knew it shouldn’t. Pansy’s nonchalance was everything I needed to know, to be wary of just how crazy I was for this infatuation festering inside of me. 

Pansy might be gay, but it sure as hell wasn’t for me, a witch that had strictly dated men prior. It wasn’t even worth getting started on just how different I was to Luna. We were worlds apart.

I evidently couldn't be her type. Luna was a dreamer, an optimist, an adventurer. I was just a girl who read books with loud opinions and a knack for expecting the worst out of things. I couldn’t think of many who would be attracted to such characteristics.

“C’mon then, you don’t have to talk about it now if you don’t want to,” Pansy chuckled at my obvious non-wanting to discuss my more ordinary upbringings. “I’m going to need some sunblock now,” she uttered looking straight up at the sun. “Help me out,” she grinned, flashing that seductive smile of hers I could never get accustomed to. 

I approached her slowly as I sat at the edge of the lounge chair. Barely making eye contact, I squeezed creamy, not as sticky as I first remembered, block all over my hands.

“Might as well do it everywhere if you’re going to put that much in your hands, ‘Mione,” Pansy laughed once more. It filled all of our surroundings, even outdoors.

With slightly shaky hands, I began to spread it all over her arms, her neck, and down her back. I tried to keep a steady mind, but it was an utterly impossible task.

Her body danced under my fingerpads as she basked in the final golden hours of summer’s heat. Blue ash lakeside and popped-cherried-lips, she beckoned me like the sun to her perfect, alabaster skin.

The difference was, I didn’t pretend the burn wouldn’t come. It would. It would wilt, or rot, or expire like jam jars, sweet ketchup, mosquito repellent, sunblock, and the ends of summer at the cabin in the woods of my youth and bottles that had stayed far too long in the cupboard. 

It was too late for protection of any kind, and I'd just have to embrace it, the burn, when it inevitably came.

And oh, did I know, it would...

**_Fin._ **


End file.
